What Happens At Night
Murder!Today was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant work. The diner needed him from four to ten. He was a cook, and making minimum wage wasn’t supporting him anymore. He grabbed a newspaper from one of the vendors and flipped through it on his way home.
He was a small man, weighing only 100 pounds and only five feet tall. He was self conscious about his size, and knew he would lose in any fight that presented itself, so naturally he tried to avoid violence.
He had just gone out for a smoke break. There was a dark alley behind the diner he usually went. It was usually deserted, like tonight. He checked his watch, which read nine-thirty. Thirty minutes left until his shift ended. He lit his cigarette and took a drag.
Suddenly he was tackled. Some force heavier than he landed on top of him. He felt his cigarette fall out of his hand. Faster than he could scream, a razor came out slicing off all the fingers on his hand, one by one. He screamed in pain until tape covered his mouth. He could feel the warm blood trickle down his hand. He tried to get away, push the force off, but it weighed him down. Then, ropes bound his feet. He squirmed under the weight, struggling, but he had no chance, he tried to see the face of his attacker, but the darkness hid the features. The razor sliced his forearm. The pain seared all the way up to his shoulder. He yelled behind the tape. He had to get help he looked around searching for someone, anyone that could help. No one was in sight and he prayed someone would come along soon. He heard a joyful laugh, but still he couldn’t place it. It was no one he knew, that was for sure, but who else would be out to get him?
The razor gleamed in the light from the streetlamp. He was scared about where the razor would go next. It found his face, slicing at random. Moving his face to avoid the edge only made it worse. The razor sliced his throat, and the struggling stopped. His attacker laughed again. The attacker stood up and cleaning the razor, went on their way.